Wanting Unwanted Memories
by WingsFromInk
Summary: First fic, song fic, of George coming to terms with what happened.


Disclaimer – I don't own nothin'. Which is a lie, in a double negative. The twins are not mine, nor is "Wanting Memories". Now any Harry Potter reference. You get the point.

**By the by, this is my first fiction ever. Let me know how I did, please?**

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.  
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes. 

George snorted as he looked out the window, his warm breath leaving a light fog on the glass. Outside fell a light patter of rain, the sound of it sighing on the roof above him. There used to be days when he and Fred would lie on their beds and just listen to the sound. Days they would bother Mum for hot cocoa and quietly plan a future of partnered business in the hush of the still day surrounded by a tent of comforters. Days of companionship and hope…days with Fred.

You used to rock me in the cradle of your arms,  
You said you'd hold me till the pains of life were gone.  
You said you'd comfort me in times like these and now I need you,  
Now I need you, and you are gone.

Now George shivered a little, despite the blankets he had pulled around himself. He looked to a pile of papers that remained strewn across the floor at the foot of his bed. Floor plans, budget plans, new gag ideas, all of it cluttered around the room. He stretched over and picked up a piece of parchment covered in hurried handwriting. No, not hurried – Fred's.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.  
Since you've gone and left me, there's been so little beauty,  
But I know I saw it clearly through your eyes.

Lightly George touched the parchment to his lips, closing his eyes and inhaling it's old scent. His nose twitched a little as other fragrances mingled throughout the air around it: fire powder, ink, dust, sweat…and the sweets Fred insisted they keep a bowl of nearby. "For thought," he would say with a wink. Always for thought…

Now the world outside is such a cold and bitter place,  
Here inside I have few things that will console.  
And when I try to hear your voice above the storms of life,  
Then I remember all the things that I was told. 

Suddenly George threw the paper away from him, a look of disgust on his face. The blankets fell from his shoulders as he shifted, turning his back against the window. He could hear the rain picking up. A low grumble of thunder began accompanying it's hypnotizing song, while distant flashes of lightning lit up the surrounding hillsides. George closed his eyes tightly.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.  
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.

Immediately he opened them again, his eyes stinging with sudden tears. He'd seen him, Fred, sitting on the bed across the room and laughing. But here, now, George saw nothing. Wind rattled the window behind him, whistling in a mocking sort of way. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes again, instead forcing himself to face the emptiness of the room around him.

I think on the things that made me feel so wonderful when I was young.  
I think on the things that made me laugh, made me dance, made me sing.  
I think on the things that made me grow into a being full of pride.  
I think on these things, for they are true.

Still, flashes of Fred leapt across George's mind. The first time they had smuggled those Dungbombs into the house; their first summer back from Hogwarts, identically and proudly bedecked in maroon and gold from head to foot; their two-man party that had lasted well into the wee hours of morning the day everything was finalized on Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Fred, beaming with pride, jumping with gangly limbs flailing about, hugging George so tight the both lost their breath…

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.  
I thought that you were gone, but now I know you're with me,  
You are the voice that whispers all I need to hear.

George rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He twisted back toward the window, his twin looking right back at him now, a mischievous grin on both their faces. "I'm fine," George said, though his voice broke ever so slightly. The reflection nodded, straightened, and stood, disappearing as George walked toward the door. George stooped and recovered the parchment he'd throw from under the wardrobe where it had landed. He smoothed the corner, looking over the latest idea for Knicker Knockers – What are you wearing under _your_ robes? – and placed is carefully on the desk.

I know a please a thank you and a smile will take me far,  
I know that I am you and you are me and we are one,  
I know that who I am is numbered in each grain of sand,  
I know that I've been blessed again, and over again.

As he opened the door, Ginny ran past, her bouncing puffball lose behind. Above the thumping of her race downstairs, Mum could be heard – "George, dear, lunch is ready." Ron looked up from the flight below, catching George's eye. George suddenly felt a rush of happiness. This is what he'd been left with, and he couldn't ask for anything better. Besides, he can always drag Ron in on things, if'n the shop became a hassle. With a whoop he leapt down the entire flight of stairs, dragging Ron to him in a headlock as he continued down to lunch.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.  
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,  
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.


End file.
